Then Don't Say Anything At All
by girl-in-pearls
Summary: What would he want with a girl like me? But here we were. He in his gear, me in my towel. Oliver/OC


I had done it, I had let it slip. I had let that one piece of my heart slip, the one that I knew would either make me or break me. It most certainly had broken me. Not a nice and neat hairline fracture down the middle either, but an ugly spiraling spider web of cracks and breaks spanning my entire being. Displayed for all to see. Even him.

Why did I do it? It was a secret, such a neat and tidy little secret known by no one for so long, so easy to hide, to deny. All it took was that one push. Just one, and the entirety of it came spilling out of my mouth screaming 'Love me!' I will never forgive my friends for that, but I know its not their fault. I was still telling myself that it wasn't my fault either.

'Its not your fault, it not you. Its. Not. You.' So much for self help books, I thought as I flew through the air, circling the pitch on my broom searching for the snitch. I was so adept at capturing this tiny little golden ball, but how was it that I was so daft at capturing him? Of course.

I wasn't her.

Her.

There she sat, in the 6th row of the Griffindor seats, watching him. Waving with her perfectly manicured nails. Smiling with her perfect teeth. Playing with her golden hair, her fashionable cloths. That was a girl, a proper girl. Not like me, she's everything that I'm not. A girl like that would eat a pound of chocolate to console her broken heart. I run. I had run this very pitch until I could barley breathe, until my knees buckled and feet went numb from cold. Lying on my back in the wet grass, staring at the castle with tears streaking my muddy face I saw him. I knew the figure was his, the hours I'd spent studying those shoulders, the posture, the profile. Everywhere. In class, during practice, during games, at meals, at Hogsmeade. Of course, whenever I'm studying him he's studying someone else. Studying her.

Focus.

Focus.

It. Is. Not. Your. Fault.

Of course, I know deep inside it is. It's my dirty little secret, and it was my mouth that had let it slip. Any normal girl could keep these thoughts to herself. To keep them from escaping her lips, but I couldn't. Everything seemed perfect, we had won, by one of the largest margin in Hogwarts history. The weather was perfect, sunny and warm. He was perfect, grinning with elation. But I, I was a blunder.

Back in the common room during the after party I was watching him. Sitting in the corner, by himself no less.

'Go talk to him' they said

'its not like you've never talked to him before' they said

'Its your chance!' they said

And I believed every word. So that's what I did. I walked to him and I sat.

He smiled.

I smiled.

We talked.

But I couldn't keep it in. It only took 30 bloody seconds and it was falling from my lips, spat out by my tongue onto him.

The look on his face was impossible to read

'Look, Oliver, I-I really like you-um-I mea-I just...' and then I stopped because there she was. The girl with the golden hair and perfect teeth and the femininity. And she bent and kissed him. That she did, right there and I froze.

He looked at me.

I looked at him.

And I ran. Actually, I quietly nodded and excused myself, but once I had passed through the portrait hole, I ran.

Hours later, choking on air and shaking, staring up at the castle I saw him.

'Probably there to laugh at me, pity me maybe, correct my assumption that I even had a chance. Save me from myself.' I spat in my mind. But there I lay, for hours it seemed until he turned away and walked back towards the castle, away from me.

I swiveled around on my broom, wiping silent tears from my face and shoved my self pity out of my mind, concentrating on nothing but the snitch. That tiny blur of gold that I had to catch.

At the end of practice I stood at the back of the group surrounding our captain as he praised and criticized our play. It had been 3 days since I had let it slip. I could tell, mer certain with every moment I was around him, that I had ruined things. Before he was my captain, my classmate, my friend. Now, he was nothing. Or rather, I was nothing. Never a glance at me, a motion towards me, walking too close to me.

It was over.

I had been fine before,with nothing, why did I feel that I needed more?

Because I thought I could get it.

But now its ever more than the nothing that it had been before. Just when I thought it could go no lower.

'You were wrong' I whisper to myself, too quiet for anyone else to hear. And he has nothing to say to me.

Beaters were a bit shabby, but had good hustle.

But the seeker was nonexistent.

So we broke apart and went to the showers, myself lagging behind finding no reason to rush back to the common room where I expected to find Oliver and his feminine candy glued face to face in front of the fire. I looked over and saw them talking, Oliver rather quiet and the girl rather animated. At least I didn't have the image of their happiness burned onto my eyeballs. For the time being.

I was the last one into the locker room. Last one into the showers. And dead last in getting out. I felt it necessary to scrub myself to a bloody raw pulp before turning off the scalding water.

There I sat, in a pool of self pity, in a grungy white locker room towel with my hair dripping wet and skin red and raw staring a the pool of water collecting at my feet. I sat facing the door, hearing the newly started rain beat against it. I felt water slowly run down my face. From my hair. From tears. I didn't know. I didn't care. No one else was here, it was ok to cry, right?

"Rachel?"

I froze, it wasn't as if I was doing anything of importance but I stopped none the less.

"Rachel are you still here?"

'Yes' I thought. But why are you still here? And why are you trying to find me?

I slowly stood up, like it would keep him from knowing I was still in here, all the while not taking my eyes from the door.

It opened.

There he was. Still in his pads. Still caked with mud and grass, drenched from the rain.

There I was. Standing in my damp towel and dripping wet hair.

Coming to my senses I clumsily wiped my face with one of my hands in a childish manner while attempting to keep my towel wrapped around me.

I saw him and he saw me, and again I ran. Trying my best not to slip on the wet tile, sore, wet, sad and naked, I turned to my right and walked away. I knew I couldn't talk to him, I couldn't face him. Everything was already over, done.

"Rachel, Rachel stop! I need to talk to you."

I'm not sure why, but I stopped. I had to explain things, I had to tell him it was all a mistake, let him know. Maybe things could go back to what it had been before-

"I know. Listen, Wood I'm sorry, really. It was inappropriate, I didn't know about you and h-her. Just-God Just leave it-"

I stopped.

I stopped because of how close he was to me. Only inches away. How did he get so close? Standing toe to toe with me, he in his pads, me in my towel.

"Stop." He said simply. It wasn't harsh, or impatient, but gentle. He was so close, the warm and spicy scent that surrounded him engulfed me. I turned my face away, tears stinging my eyes, not wanting to show how I weak I was, not anymore. The moment I looked up at him, I knew all the walls I was building between us would come crashing down onto me. I stared at the dirty tile wall, my vision blurring.

'Not now. Not now. You cant do this, its not fair'

I was completely frozen, by everything. My feelings, our closeness, his breath on my cheek, his smell. It was too overwhelming, I couldn't even move my hand to wipe the telling tears from my face.

I knew how hopeless, how pathetic I looked.

"Rachel, you don't understand-"

"Yea" I whispered quietly, cutting him off. It took all of my strength to project that false sense of calm, of light hearted humor, the only thing I could mask my pain and regret in. " I understand. We're just friends, nothing personal right? I not your type or something. Not like-not like her-I mean well, not that it really matter, but-." my throat was closing in on me.

"No, you've got it all wrong"

I laughed nervously. This was turning into pity and I couldn't take that. I took a deep breath and feeling a crazed type of anger push its way through.

"No Oliver, I understand it all. And, I want you to know that its fine, really. Its over so you don't-"

My voice cracked and I felt a new wave of tear threaten escape. But I also felt his hand, his hand was on my cheek turning my face toward his so I had no choice but to look at him. His fingers burning stripes of warmth onto my chilled face, his warm brown eyes staring down at me. He pressed his forehead against mine and I felt myself loose everything.

'Why is he doing his!?' I thought 'Its not fair!'

"Well it would be a shame if it was over, don't you think? Before it even begins?"

I saw him smile, not his smug smile but a true one. I was more confused that I have ever been in my life. I looked up at him about to stutter out a response when I felt his lips on mine. Soft and warm. It was only brief, a moment or two but it seemed to last a life time. In that moment I felt everything and nothing all at once. My heart felt as if it was actually swelling, every inch of my body was on fire, my mind went blank, every thought, hope, doubt, fear, question-they all disappeared. When we broke apart everything came flooding back, but this time the fear and doubt has a new purpose. Eyes still locked on his face, body still hyper-sensitive, I found it even more difficult to find my voice.

"But--but her?" I asked, motioning toward the door.

"No." He said simply "No, not her. You."

I just continued to look at him.

"Me?"and he nodded.

I had no idea what to do, so I buried my head in his chest, shaky fingers gripping at that front of his muddy uniform. I felt him wrap his arms around my waist and kiss the top of my head. My eyes still stung with tears, but of a new kind.

I couldn't stop smiling.

When I finally lifted my head he took my chin in his hand and looked at me. He gently wiped my damp cheeks with his thumb.

"Rachel I'm so sorry. That night on the pitch, I wanted to talk to you but. I don't know, I didn't, and so many times since then, I didn't know what to say."

"Oliver-then don't say anything at all." I said through a smile

I twined my fingers into his messed hair and stood on my toes. If the first kiss had been on of comfort, this was one of passion, and relief. That was all I needed-we needed. His arms pulled me flush against him. My hair still dripping wet, and his pads caked in drying mud pressed against each other so that not even the smallest breath of air could separate us.

His lips, his tongue, his hands, his love.

That's all I needed.

That was all I needed from him.

No, not her, he had said.

Me.

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A/N No i don't own anything yadda yadda

Now that you've read it, why don't you review it! Please! It'll take you 30 seconds if that.

-GIP


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